"Do not destroy oil rigs..."
What? Does anyone still doubt that this is all about money? About oil? About the Bush/Cheney investment portfolio?
Why is it Americans will riot in the streets when their professional sports teams lose (or win) but the leader of the United States of America essentially tells the rest of the world to fuck off and get out of our sandbox if yer not gonna be on our team, and no one does anything? What is wrong with us? When i think about going out and taking some sort of action, it all seems so ineffectual. Last night i was overwhelmed with a feeling of just not being part of this culture. It's not a new feeling, but now, more than ever, I am disgusted by this country and it's unwillingness to be a member of the global community.
Dubya=Nero, baby. Burn, burn, fiddle, burn.

At the risk of stating the obvious: Dubya is a lying sack of rocks. Is anyone suprised that as the deadline for compliance looms, the rules for Saddam-bob (a small homage to my old pals in Mr Ureling's history class. though none of us are still pals ((in practice. perhaps in theory, but who knows. i'm not paying classmates jack to find out if Derek and Brad and Greg want to exchange emails 20 years down the road)) ) change to: "Get out of the country." Sure, initially it was all about getting rid of his weapons of mass destruction, but in the end, it turns out it is a battle of wills, and Dubya wants to avenge Daddy. Or Daddy wants to. Whatever. There was a link to a funny list of new items Saddam would have to do to avoid war. If i can scrounge it up, i'll post it...

TheFive for now, more later, hopefully.

1. Do you like talking on the phone? Why or why not?
I really, really dislike talking on the phone. Always have. Dunno why, except that i have this constant feeling I'm not being clear enough, and also that i'm somehow wasting time.

2. Who is the last person you talked to on the phone?
Julie the Drummer.

3. About how many telephones do you have at home?
One plugged in, and two in a box.

4. Have you encountered anyone who has really bad phone manners? What happened?
Well, SMRHE does have a tendancy to chew loudly (gum, sandwich, whatever) while on the phone which i think is bad form. Generally, that's the big one forme - someone eating. Work-wise, speakerphone users really, really suck, especially when you know it's someone sitting at a desk. Production workers, that's one thing (sometimes, you gotta keep mousing while ya talk, or hitting the green button) but managers who use speaker phones are lame. I tend to ask people to pick up on the pretense of not being able to hear them well enough.

5. Would you rather pick up the phone and call someone or write them an e-mail or a letter? Why or why not?
Oh, I would much rather write a letter. I've settled lately for emails, but that seems weak too. I call my mom the most, even though i know she likes to get letters too, but i also know she enjoys hearing my voice. so, y'know, i make compromises. back in the day, i was a letter-writing machine. lately, not so much. which bothers me like a mild toothache.

today i simply want to run away from home.
i need to decide what i really want to do. Being in a cover band isn't it. I miss writing, photography and stuff. Seems there's no time left anymore.

So I uncharacteristically posted at the old website on Sunday because I suspect someone (I'm not wholly sure of their identity yet, though I have my suspicions) was waiting for me to write up a little bit about the movie screening on Saturday night, and I know no one comes here. It was a preview of a documentary about The Gits. SMRHE and I attended, though as always I had mixed (really mixed) emotions about the whole thing. It's hard for me because I really, honestly loved the band so much. Rarely does a band make me feel the way the Gits did - i even mentioned that to Juno's singer in an email once when i was explaining how inspiring they were to me lately, that short of the Gits, rarely does a band make me want to pick up my guitar, or pen, or camera and create. On top of that, the Gits always left me feeling happy and tired, like all good punk rock did.
Beyond all that, there was a personal connection that was obliterated, by me not behaving (i guess) according to accepted protocol. And I got cut out of the loop. Whatever - I'm not bitter, though i have often said that i think often their attitudes in circling the wagons was a little misguided. But whatever. I went to the film knowing that all the major players would be there and they would most likely ignore me like they have for the last 5 or 6 years when I have run into any of them in public situations (shows, or even the Seafish Lville release). So I was wholly unprepared for Steve saying hi. I was also unprepared for the look of consternation. Had things gone differently, or had i (i suppose) been more forgiving maybe i would have stepped up to him and engaged him in a conversation - but what was there to say? Nothing. So, he asked how i was, and i he. pause. for lack of anything better to say, i said i was excited, and he replied that it would be weird.
and so it was. i'm not gonna go into any more detail about the people i saw and didn't talk to, but it was a very strange feeling to be amongst what i can only describe as ghosts.
aside from all that, the movie (or what we saw of it) was wonderful, and did a fine job of capturing a lot of how it felt to have the Gits in your life. I got choked up a couple of times, laughed several times (the German is still unavoidably logical and hilarious all at the same time), and after listening to the Q&A after, I was also feeling good about the remaining members and how the film would progress.
In my other post, I went on about how much the Gits represented a certain community of punk rock - a community I very much miss. I think that's one of the most important reasons to tell their story (aside from their pheonomenal talent) as well. Not enough gets said about the foundation of this "alternative" scene, so it's nice to see it recognized, even if it has to come about through a tragedy.

Yeah, so the first practice was a little wake-up call...man, i hate practicing like nothing else. And i have this weird, ingrained aversion to learning covers. Great, eh? Yeah, that'll help, now that i've agreed to do this cover-band thing. Ah well. Last night, J cancelled practice, and while i could have gonedown to the space and played with D, I bailed and enjoyed a quiet (ooh, big switch) night at home.
Right. Which brings us to the Five:
1. What was the last song you heard?
Sadly, it was Joan Jett, "victim of circumstance" the song we were practicing. I played a bit of Jawbreaker this morning on guitar (Ashtray Monument) but that doesn't count...

2. What were the last two movies you saw?
In the theater? LOTR-TTT, and uhm, hell - Spiderman, or Men In Black 2. We don't go see movies much. At home, we rented the new Kevin Smith dvd - it's a compilations of the presentations he's given on college campuses recently. Funny, funny guy, and I have to admit to having a small crush on Silent Bob/Kev. I like his style. Heh. Uh, we also rented "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" - frigging Jack, man. also, Road to Perdition, which was certainly one of Hank's better performances, though he slipped into nice guy mode a couple of times.

3. What were the last three things you purchased?
Ooh. Bus pass. Smokes for SMRHE, and food for dinner. Yeah, living on the edge.

4. What four things do you need to do this weekend?
1. band practice of some form
2. Home Depot run for plumbing supplies/wheels for amp
3. Groceries/toilet paper
4. Call mom.

5. Who are the last five people you talked to?
Real conversations, not email/work crap:
SMRHE, Karen, Rory, Julie, Debra.

Tonight will be the first official practice of Jett_house. I'm already feeling like i want to bail - but sort of like forcing myself to go to a show alone just to make sure that i was right and that it's going to suck, i feel like i have to at least give it a shot. so i'll go. but my heart's not really in it. i feel like i like my evenings the way they are, and i don't know if i want to pursue something, especially music-wise that doesn't include SMRHE. Yeah. That's a big part of it - because i know i won't see much of him if i do this. but maybe that's a good thing. maybe we see too much of each other? something like that. we'll see how it goes tonight. it was weird going by M's the other evening - some things never change, and he, unfortunately is one of them. in small doses though, it's ok. i guess. yeowch.

oh yeah, the Five:
1. What is your favorite type of literature to read (magazine, newspaper, novels, nonfiction, poetry, etc.)?
Ooh, i've always been a big fan of the periodical, specifically fanzines. I'm a memoir junkie as well.

2. What is your favorite novel?
Funny, I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and there are so very many that I have enjoyed - but I guess, ultimately, I'd have to go with...gee..I'm still not sure I can call it in the air...i feel a sudden need to look at my bookshelf again before deciding.

3. Do you have a favorite poem? (Share it!)
I have a favorite poet: Sherman Alexie, and anything out of his book "Like Water Flowing Home" rocks my world.

4. What is one thing you've always wanted to read, or wish you had more time to read?
Ah, why War & Peace (or any Tolstoy, really). But also "100 Years of Solitude" which I'm actually going to tackle shortly.

5. What are you currently reading?
Whew, this would have been really embarrassing yesterday. But today it's only slightly lame: I'm reading "Good in Bed" by jennifer weiner, and also "a cometbus omnibus".

Huh, I just realized that my big plan was to journal the books that i've been reading, and once again, i haven't done it...ah well.

So, I had meant to write about Mr Rogers yesterday, and got sidetracked into a mean-spirited rant about Dubya. Typical, huh? Since then, I've read plenty of tributes to the man and his show, and I don't know if I have anything any more eloquent than anyone else, but I do feel compelled to state what seems obvious to me: kids who grow up with Mr Rogers grow up lame and sad and unimaginative. What else can explain the kids today? The fact that they get no nourishing information frm TV. Yes, he continued producing the show into 2001, but I wonder if there are any stats about how many kids were actually still watching it?

Man, the world just gets less and less interesting. Mr. Rogers died today and after watching King George give yet another pompous speech about shit he not only doesn't believe, but based on his facial expressions (am I the only one who thinks his facial expressions are completely inappropriate to the words coming out of his mouth? He looks alternately smug, confused, and often smirking like he's talking about boobies or something. Like he's this little kid who has all the adult attention at dinner time. Agh, it pains me to even think about this).) but I seriously doubt he understands. Just an ejaculation of complete lies and bullshit. Honestly, who the hell is going to rescue the United States of America from our evil despot? If you accept the definition of dictator, then someone might like to point out the percentage of Americans living in poverty. Oh sure, they have cars (everyone loves the Ford Tempo) and they have TVs (keep them fat and stupid, like good cattle), but do we Americans have any sense of SELF? Any clue to our responsibility to the rest of the planet?
Agh. I can't do this again. I have reached burnout.

I was watching the seagulls this morning. They are plentiful here in the International (nee Chinatown) district where I work - only 4 blocks to the waterfront, and plenty of prime dumpsters to scavenge from. This morning though, as I crossed the old Uyajimaya parking lot, I noticed a couple dozen of them appeared to be playing as they flew around above the lot. There was plenty of squawking and they swooped around in big lazy circles, diving in front of each other (I watched several almost collide mid-flight, only to pull up just before impact, without any seeming panic or hostility. You ever see crows dive-bomb each other? Those are some mean, cranky birds, but these gulls were all very mellow), it was like they were a bunch of winged skaters just sessioning for the sheer joy of it. I immediately remembered reading Jonathan Livingston Seagull and how JLS was so into the joy of flight. It sure seemed like those gulls were digging on being gulls - sort of like when you watch sea otters (and i love to watch sea otters) they just look like they really LIKE being who they are. Yes, yes, I'm anthropormorphasizing animals again, so sue me. My head is in a wacky place at the moment. I feel like some major changes are gonna have to happen, and not all of them are going to be pleasant, so I'm daydreaming about seagulls. Riiight.
Meanwhile, it's Friday so here we go:
1. What is your most prized material possession?
I don't really prize possessions, but I guess my camera or Rickenbacker bass both qualify, as things I'm proud to use and own.

2. What item, that you currently own, have you had the longest?
The small stuffed koala that was my first ever retail purchase with my own money. I was 7. It has a safety pin in it's ear, 'cause y'know, punk rock and stuff.

3. Are you a packrat?
Not nearly to the extent that I was. SMRGE is though. A throw-it-in-a-box packrat no less. I've gotten progressively better over the years, lightening my load.

4. Do you prefer a spic-and-span clean house? Or is some clutter necessary to avoid the appearance of a museum?
I was raised in a tidy, but lived-in house, and that's what I prefer. I have a dog, so spic&span isn't even a reality. Clutter bugs me.

5. Do the rooms in your house have a theme? Or is it a mixture of knick-knacks here and there?
Hell no. The whole place is "decorated" with stuff from our lives. Art we made or people made for us mostly.

Here's the thing George, (can I call you George? I mean, sure, Mr President is the official title, but you have really sold america on the "i'm just one of the guys" thing, so I feel like y'know, if we were at a meeting ((you used to go to those, right George? Maybe you still do? Maybe you still should since it seems like you've forgotten about humility)) I'd call you George B, and you'd know me as Michelle O, so I figure it's okay to call you George, but maybe I should stick to Dubya, because back in the day, when I was addressing yer dad (and I did address your Dad a lot, because I really thought I was fighting evil and making a difference, but then you come along and prove that evil begets evil and that well, here we frigging go AGAIN) I called him King George, so it would just be too confusing for both of us if I did that, so...yeah, Georgie, maybe?) the thing is, you do have a responsibility to do what we the voters want. I'm pretty fucking sure that it's in your job description - something about the representational form of govornment. If a lot (in this case millions) of people display a preference (like, oh, not having a pointless war in the name of oil and your families' retarded need to dominate the planet) then you are supposed to make decisions based on that. We have freedom of speech not just to get shit off our chests, George, but in order to be able to directly influence political representatives. I'm pretty goddamn sure you don't read your email, much less the written stuff. Sure, that has more to do with your inability to read as opposed to what I firmly believe is an overall disrespect of the Amercian Public, but I digress. What I'm saying is that just because 40 percent of the American public is so stupid that they care about a lying construction worker/model looking for love from 20 money-grubbing golddiggers, doesn't mean that the hundreds of thousands all over this grand country aren't protesting the war just to piss you off. People are in the streets because they are pissed, Dubya. Even the little guys, the mechanics, the gas station attendants, the accounting drones are pissed. They are starting to think (!) that you are a power-hungry war-mongering functionary of the upper class. Yeah, George, sure you know that I, and all the other people with the CIA files filled to the brim with ties to freeing Nelson Mandela, and getting the US to divest from South Africa, and fighting bastard organizations like Operation Rescue and your Dad's little forays into Central America...sure, you know that we're all on to you, but the bad news (and you're making it worse) is that you are now tipping your hand to the Springer People. The TV folk, the people who swarm Wal-Mart when you tell them to buy duct tape ( hey George, did you ever see the British animated movie, "When The Wind Blows" about what happens after a nuclear war? You should check it out George, it's a cartoon, and it's educational, you might learn more from it than listening to Dick Cheney and his boys tell you how they did it back in '90) they're starting to wonder what in the hell is going on. They're not gonna like getting pulled over at the airport in the name of "homeland security" they aren't gonna like it when you start telling them when and where they can go, and what they can watch or read. Ask your Dad what happened when he started pulling this shit. Have you seen "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" George? Of course you have. Your dad is a punchline ("Voodoo economics" George. Don't do it. It's never ever worked. Everyone knows it. Bad call.), and you are on your way. I'm just afraid this time, we're a bit too close to the edge. You need to chill out. I'm sorry if Jeb picked on you a lot as a kid, or knocked your ice cream on the gorund, or whatever it is that makes you think you need to play the bully role, but you need to cut it out. You are the (unfairly) elected leader of the most powerful nation on the planet, and you are being an asshole. I don't appreciate it. I could go on and on about how I was in Europe when your dad lost the election in '92 and how amazingly happy everyone in all 12 countries that I travelled to were about it. They were stoked. Which means they were sick and tired of the oppressive nature to begin with. I haven't been back recently, but word on the street (and the internet, you do know about the internet, right?If not, ask Al, he'll explain it. Or ask yer daughters, they're very popular in cyberspace as well) is that no one likes you. At all. You make bad choices. It looks like you don't really have a plan at all, except to be a bully. That's lame George, and it's not very humble.
Please listen to the people of this country when they go out of their way to display their wishes. It's your job.

So this weekend I took another step back in the direction I was headed about 3 years ago, and then proceeded to let myself get derailed by love. This time though, I'm going to be both thinner, and married. I got the bike out of the storage area, and put it on the damn training rack, and got a new smooth tire, set it up in the bedroom (because we have no other space) and proceeded to ride it. Now, I only got through 3 Severna Park songs (I used to do the entire record, or the whole Sicko "You are not the boss of me" LP) before I thought my heart would explode, but I did it. and I have done it every night since. Already I feel 100 percent better, just sweating for 12 minutes. I'm anxious to get back to where I was - doing the 30 minutes and not thinking twice about it. Because THAT is what got me out of my rut before. No matter how little I eat, I only lose weight if I sweat. Walking 3 miles a day doesn't even cut it - my body is so used to that as a daily routine sort of thing that it doesn't even register as a workout anymore, it is just part of my day. Which blows. But anyway, I'm stoked that I might return to that mindset that I had a few years ago - I remember going with my mom to Vegas while she visited with friends, and I was so freaked out by not having a bike to ride, I just started walking around the frigging desert - walked from the MGM to the Hard Rock, and back around...almost in a fit about not burning calories. Sure that sounds nutty, but for me, it was a big improvement over simply not giving a damn.
The weird thing this time is now I share my life with someone, so I sort of feel obligated to behave in a somewhat normal manner (no dinners of air-popped popcorn for me) eating-wise, which with any luck will mean I will actually create habits that will stick, and I won't slide into a rut again.
It's strange though, sometimes I feel like SMRGE thinks the whole idea of sweating is silly. It's easy for him though - he has that massive cancer to feed, and it keeps him rail thin. Yeah.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Once again, a whole week slides by and brings us to the Friday Five
1. Explain why you started to journal/blog.
Because I had/have an overwhelming desire to write. The journal provided me with the one forum I always wanted, which is basically a daily personal forum to ruminate on all types of subjects, both personal and non.

2. Do people you interact with day to day or family members know about your journal/blog? Why or why not?
Well, this is actually my second blog. I started with a journal at another site, which was very honest and sometimes bordered on rabid. Some of the stuff I wrote about was pretty damn funny/insightful (or so they tell me; it's still out there - though the most recent entries are admittedly lame). I covered everything from daily walks with my dog to current world politics. I initially pointed a lot of friends who lived far away there so they could sort of keep up with me as if I was still physically writing letters all the time. Beyond that, I was unattached when I started journaling online (talk about adding fuel to the fire) and then started going out with the guy who I eventually married - in fact, when we first got together, I pointed him to it immediately, figuring it was the best way for him to get to know "me" fastest. But as we spent more time together, I felt more and more uncomfortable writing about us and as I grew more aware of how many people were reading, it seemed like I couldn't come up with the same quality of writing...so I blogged less and less, until finally, I'm pretty sure, no one checks it anymore. I moved here, in an effort to regain the anonymity of before, in the hope that it would move me to write more often, because ultimately, I miss writing everyday.
Oh, and only one brother knows about the journal, and I'm pretty sure he never bothered to check it out. The rest of my family is either not online, or haven't been told. I have had people find my journal via searches, and sometimes, since they haven't talked to me in years, have gotten all ganked up about things they've read. It has led me to edit a bit, and write less - but things have changed in my life a lot, i have less free time to just write in general - i used to do a lot of it at work, and that just isn't as doable as it was before.

3. Do you have a theme for your journal/blog?
Is honesty a theme? Ranting? Mindless drivel?


4. What direction would you like to have your journal/blog go in over the next year?
I'd like to regain the more immediate tone my previous effort had. I'd like it to be thought-provoking.

5. Pimp five of your favorite journals/blogs.
Okay, but my favorite blogs are oldschool, that is they were online journals before "blogging" was *cool*. Some don't update very often, but when they do, it's always worth it.
Heather
Lance
Mary
Gus
Ceej

In a desperate attempt to avoid the reality of having fucked up my marriage...how about 5 inane questions from Friday?

1. What did you have for breakfast this morning? If you didn't have breakfast, why not?
english muffin with cranberry jam i made at xmas, and a banana.

2. What's your favorite cereal?
Post cranberry nut crunch.

3. How often do you eat out? Do you want that to change?
not often enough. yeah, it'd be cool if we went out more to eat, though i do like to cook, so it's not too big a deal.

4. What do you plan on having for dinner tonight? Got a recipe for that?
Uh, gonna roast a chicken...yeah, i've got a recipe. Probably do brocolli and potatoes with.

5. What's your favorite restaurant? Why?
Golly, i don't go enough to have a favorite, but i really enjoyed bandaleone when we went there once, and i always enjoyed hana sushi, and the mashiko sushi place over in west seattle was nice as well.

So, yeah. He gazed across the table and broke the silence (not an uncomfortable silence, just a comfy hey-here-we-are-at-the-local-mexican-joint-for-grub silence) with "So, how about those Juno boys, eh?"
To which I replied the only way I know how "They are a most talented group of guys." To which I added, "And they rocked the fuckin' house Saturday, and the bass player, that Jason guy, owned those songs."
I said that, because the man did, and it was no small feat.

One of the first webjournals i ever came across (while surfing on Xerox/Microsoft's dime) was Musings of the Gus - which I found through some random search for punk rock sites back in the day (that'd be '95 or so, for those of you keeping track at home)). Anyway, I still read Gus fairly often, though I took a long break from his rambling stuff while he was in LA; as I found he had become boring, and the inclusion of adventures with his girl were not just boring, but poorly written. But he's back on the East Coast now, and with a new girl who obviously indulges his sardonic side, which is nice to see. Occsionally he writes something and I feel like he's beaten me to the punch. Tow wit:
"For those of you who are religious and wonder what message God was trying to send with today's disaster, hold on to your Bibles and fret no more, I think I have this one figured out! The problem seems to have been with the Columbia's left wing, which either broke off or otherwise malfunctioned while the shuttle re-entered Earth's atmosphere. I'm thinking that God was fed up with the continuing marginalization and oppression of the Left by the present American administration, and in His own inimitably mysterious way, decided to send our nation a message by smiting the left wing of its most famous and flamboyant of wing-ed craft, thereby demonstrating an important fact: you cannot fly without a left wing."
Nicely done, Gus.

Well. I had big plans to post over the weekend, what with all the action, but it (as usual) got pushed back. I wanted to wax rhapsodorically (you like that? yeah, me too.) about the wonder that is the local band Juno, as I don't think I've done that in this venue (and it'd be a nice break from the constant braying about my lost punk rock youth. Although it seems that that is what my internet presence has become, merely a sounding board for my inability to cope with not being part of the scene anymore). However, the space shuttle is on my mind, as it is many people's lately. Though I'll wager my thoughts aren't like theirs.
Here's why: I am one of those freaks who wasn't terribly upset by the explosion of the Challenger. I'm assuming here that there are some - though I have yet to come across anyone who doesn't go on and on about how it impacted them. I was in college, a freshman when it happened. I remember it quite clearly, because it was still so new that the launches were still regularly broadcast on TV. Being the speed demon that I was at the time, I was routinely up at 6am on weekday mornings, usually at Mike's apartment, watching TV before hitting class. Generally, I enjoyed indulging in Jim & Tammy Faye (it's a long story, though fairly humerous, it's too long to go into here, now, but rest assured I wasn't a member of the GodSquad) - but that morning, we were indeed watching the Today show (as I recall) and the liftoff. I do remember being amazed that I was actually seeing it happen. I remember thinking "Wow, it really did blow up. Live, in front of the world." Because at that point in our country's sordid little history, we didn't have a long list of public deaths to choose from: you had JFK, RFK, MLK, and uh, oh, yeah, Lee Harvey Oswald. Beyond that, not a lot going on in that area. It had been a long time since we'd seen heroes go down. Certainly it was my generation's first experience. But here's the weird part for me: I didn't dwell on the deaths as unfortunate lives lost. Naw. It hit me then, as it does now, that part of the risk in being an astronaut is the danger of what you are doing. Seriously. You are shooting a tube full of people into space. Not just the sky (I mean, if you concentrate on it, airplanes are just begging to be smacked down by Nature) but into space away from the earth. With big, explosive rockets. It's a dangerous gig my friends. Just because the Space Shuttle looks like a plane doesn't mean it is one. But I'm digressing (obviously). My point is that part of what (I think, though the the loved ones' of the dead seem to concur) attracts people to being an astronaut in the first place is the danger. The risk. Because the payoff (being in outer space) is awfully fucking cool. Have you seen the video from the mission? Do you see anyone bummed out? Sad? Bored? Hell no. Every person looks totally into what they are doing, and if there is one thing that I know, it's that when you are living in the moment, fully enjoying what you are and where you are, that is what makes life worth living. They train for the mission. They are aware of the risks, and they choose to do what they do because at some point your will to do it supercedes everything else. If they had second thoughts they would stay on the ground. I furmly believe that. Which is why I'm sickened by all the weepy bullshit around America. It's NOT some horrible loss - it is in fact a great example of the courage and daring that makes some people truly inspiring. I can't see it any other way. I can' t mourn for those people, because I don't believe they lost their lives in vain, or due to some sort of preventable issue. Yeah, I realize the explosion is most likely due to a malfunction, but those happen. Risks are there. Statistically, we're gonna lose some shuttles. We are going to crash cars, planes are going to crash, generally, bad things happen in life. But to get all weepy does no one any good. Plus, let's all pull back and quit teaching our kids to be so goddanm morose. Grief counselors are a growth industry. It's time we as a nation frigging bucked up. To wit, I offer Hunter S Thompson in today's salon:

So yeah, the Friday crutch returns with:
1. As a child, who was your favorite superhero/heroine? Why?
Really wasn't all that hip to superheroes - they all seemed like dorks to me. I just never bought it. However, I did watch Shazam! pretty regularly, so whoever that guy with the red+gold outfit and fist in the sky who travelled in an RV with his dad, or grandpa or whatever Uncle Curmudgeon character there was...that'd be it. Or maybe Underdog. Or Bullwinkle. Is Bullwinkle a superhero? Maybe only to me.

2. What was one thing you always wanted as a child but never got?
Ooooh! I had often hoped, early on, for one of the giant art kits...but never told my parents (I don't think, anyway) but really the only thing I ever really hoped I'd get was a new English saddle (yeah, we had horses) - the folks came close though. One christmas I did wake to find a brand spankin' new (and quite wonderful) western saddle waiting under the tree - but i have to admit to being disappointed. I wanted the English, and I wanted a red bow. Ah well. I gave up the dreams of jumping, and went ahead and started barrel racing. Which i ended up liking...go figure. And it was a really nice saddle.

3. What's the furthest from home you've been?
Ah, favorite question ever. I think, milage-wise, it's Serbia. I think the furthest east was Novi Sad. Or North to Os, Norway. Or south, Sicily. One of those though.

4. What's one thing you've always wanted to learn but haven't yet?
Well, obviously, what I'm supposed to do with my life. Oh, and French.

5. What are your plans for the weekend?
Juno, baby, Juno. Gonna go bask in the glow of Arlie & Co. Yay.

The little croat still hasn't written. whatever. you'd think i'd catch the clue, but no...whatever.
how strange that i'm listening to NPR this morning and they're running a story about the remaining Jewish communities of Eastern Europe, and interview people in Novi Sad, Serbia. How bizarre that I've been there. I played a show in Novi Sad. What the hell? HOw many people can say that? How many Americans? Like a dozen of us, tops, yeah? I've done some wacky wacky shit.
Speaking of wacky shit - I ran into a ghost from my past (though I'd been sliding past him for months now - I was just waiting for him to have the nerve to say something to me, and yesterday, he did). Shay. What a sad state of affairs. Sad but funny, and all too satisfying in most respects. Especially when he suggested going to get a drink and I said no. But not for the reason he expected. Heh. Hell yeah. The rest of you may remain in yer little pit of doom, but me, i'm moving on - sure, it may be a trench of doom, but nonetheless, it's a trench, not a hole.